Being a random register of long-held private country houses not generally open to the public

Shuckburgh Hall revisited

Or, more precisely, Shuckburgh Hall visited! After a fashion. Back in April this Warwickshire house (historically illiterate Northants postcoding notwithstanding) was a natural choice to kick offHanded on. Since when, in the context our subjects’ sleepy obscurity at least, there have been a couple of what can only be called ‘developments’.

Firstly, do a web search for this place and it’s now likely to pop up in tandem with the words ‘action group’. For Sir Rupert Shuckburgh and his agents have met with protests as the estate attempts to join what has become known as the ‘wind-rush’ [read], the government-subsidised push towards energy alternatives. The Beacon Hill Wind Farm project is looking to erect up to half-a-dozen wind turbines atop the highest point of the Shuckburgh estate. It was rebuffed at the first planning hurdle two weeks ago as councillors yielded to the barrage of complaints from locals. ‘The beautiful countryside and views which have been enjoyed for generations will be destroyed for at least a generation,’ they claim, strangely overlooking the fact that they have nearly 1000 years of Shuckburghs’ stewardship to thank for this amenity.

Even if they are, as opponents suggest, just the latest in a growing list of landowners looking to turn a quick buck, in the great scheme of things ‘a generation’ hardly seems that long. And having recently had the opportunity to see the Hall close up…

…frankly, it could use the money!

Yes, also in September the Heritage Open Days scheme provided a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it opportunity to visit Shuckburgh Hall. An initiative promoting engagement and accessiblity, ‘Heritage Open Days celebrates England’s architecture and culture by allowing visitors free access to interesting properties that are not usually open‘. Shuckburgh, centre of an estate owned by the same family since C12, certainly qualifies in the latter respect, being essentially a private home and outside of organisations such as the Historic Houses Association. But a sense of celebration? Hmmm…

For the reality is that Shuckburgh Hall partakes basically as a quid pro quo for tax exemptions on this collection of objets d’art. Here the obligation to display said items is met in letter if not quite in the spirit of the scheme in which it participates.

The clues were there from the outset. The event page advised that the visit was to last one hour (10-11am Saturday 10 September) and that anyone wishing to attend must send photo ID in advance to the family’s lawyers in Lincolns Inn. Those of us that had done so duly arrived shortly before the allotted hour only to find the estate gates closed and no signage or assistance of any kind. ‘Enter if you dare,’ seemed to be the message; we dared.

The latest representatives of one of England’s oldest deer herds dashed across our path as we processed up through the park then across the forecourt of the house under the watchful gaze of it’s present owner, Sir Rupert Shuckburgh, 13th Bart. He is at the wheel of his Range Rover and drives off as we disembark, leaving the business in hand to his representatives…

..who numbered three to our party of, er, nine.

see: Walwyn @ Flickr

Well-intentioned but clearly constrained, these (non-family) guides shepherded us across the central spaces of the Hall’s ground floor front range, sticking doggedly to the script. A curious assemblage of time-worn treasures were pointed out across these four of the house’s 59 rooms yet nothing so captivating as the view out, a timeless vista* to the horizon framed in the half-glazed entrance doors…

…through which we were ushered out after about 25 minutes and taken to the nearby church. Which, though crammed with grand Shuckburgh memorials and something of a parochial oddity, was basically…a church, much as you’d imagine, unlike the decidedly singular structure next door.

This week’s Country Life magazine carries a comment piece decrying the oft-mooted ‘mansion tax': ‘Most hit would be the old families whose houses no longer reflect their wealth, but are steeped in history’. Shuckburgh, with its centuries of evolution and accumulation (there having been no ‘Great Fire’, no especially prodigal ancestor) and a lineage and longevity of association with one place few can match, definitely has a story to tell. But, seemingly, no-one particularly minded to tell it…

[* A view, protestors would doubtless quickly point out, which is not – quelle surprise! – threatened with imminent turbine intrusion.]

It’s sad to hear of Rupert’s death. Despite being an almost exact contemporary of his, I knew his Father better. My slightly unfair assumption of a reclusive and distant character is belied by the fact that he has as good a friend as you (Edward Walpole-Brown) to support him on the blogosphere. His achievement in keeping the enormous pile that is Shuckburgh going for his lifetime is admirable. I am glad to see he is so much missed.

Yes, ldm, I added the newspaper notice – http://twitpic.com/8c9t9s – to my original Shuckburgh Hall post where someone else has added a reminiscence. I’ve been mulling an update on some of the places features so far, may or may not appear

Sir Rupert Shuckburgh memorial service details from Saturday’s Telegraph:
‘A Celebration Service of Rupert’s life will be held on Wednesday March 28th 2.30 p.m. St John the Baptist, Lower Shuckburgh. All welcome. Donations to Lower Shuckburgh Church’

When I was three and a half in 1945, my mother and I stayed with Mr Baker, the gamekeeper white my father, a soldier was treated at Shuckburgh Hall. Among many memories of those days is the VJ Day party hosted by the elder Lady Shuckburgh and of her grandaughter who I was told to call Reme, a young girl of about eight or nine possibly. I always wondered what happend to her.